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i can still taste the ocean
like it was today
The beach in the winter is calm.
It’s cold, here on the West Coast, at least colder than the dead of winter ever was back in Sydney. Sure, it’s not as bad as London was when they stayed there for months, but they’ve also never been to the beach in the middle of January.
The wind is biting and whipping his cheeks, and he knows his skin must be red and stiff.
It’s nice, though, Luke muses as he walks beside Calum, his hands buried in the pocket of his hoodie and his Converse leaving a trail behind him in the sand. Some of it is getting through the tiny holes on the insides — Ashton did warn him to wear boots before he left, but Luke is nothing if not stubborn, and he loves his Converse, damn it — but he’s had sand worse places, he reckons.
Calum’s been begging to watch the sunset from the beach for weeks. They haven’t really had time, and when they did they weren’t always near the coast, or sometimes they were just too exhausted to put shoes back on and brave the cold.
But they’ve been staying at the house for a few days now, and they’ve been writing and getting actual sleep, so after a late lunch Luke jumped on the opportunity to offer to go see the sunset with Calum today. Luke’s never been hugged by Calum as much as in that moment, and he’s been hugged by Calum a lot.
The sun hasn’t set yet, but it’s starting to; the blues are slowly fading into deeper blues and oranges. Not a lot, not enough to really see if you’re not paying attention to it, but it’s what they’re here for, and Luke is well intent on not missing a second of it.
“I like this spot,” Calum says. It looks the same as every other spot on the empty beach, but Luke shrugs and sits down when Calum does anyway, hugging his hoodie closer to himself. Maybe he should have brought a coat.
The wind is less prominent here, closer to the ground, but it’s in no way warm. Which is probably why Calum scoots closer, until his side is fully pressed against Luke’s through all their layers of clothing.
Luke can’t help the smile that rises on his face then, but he probably doesn’t need to. Not when he turns his head only to see the bright look in Calum’s eyes. He’s not exactly smiling, but he’s not not smiling, either. Luke’s looked at his face often enough to recognize a happy Calum when he sees one, and this is definitely an elated Calum.
Maybe Luke should worry about the fact that he knows his boys so well, but well, the harm is done; he’s already gone and fallen in love with them. It was a free fall no one could have stopped, not even if they’d had the foresight to see it coming, which Luke didn’t. There’s no point in worrying anymore.
He takes a deep breath, taking in the salt in the air, realizing he can feel it on his lips, too. It’s a nice feeling.
“It’s probably gonna be a while before the colours get just right,” Luke says, linking his right arm with Calum’s left. “We might be here a minute.”
“I don’t mind,” Calum says, and there, now the smile breaks through, cutting into his cheeks. “I’d gladly stay here all night, but I know you don’t like being out in the dark that much, so I won’t do that to you.”
“Very kind of you,” Luke teases, though he couldn’t appreciate the gesture more.
He’d stay, if Calum asked. And not only because Calum is the one driving the car. He’d do and has done almost anything for him, just as for Ashton and Michael.
“Well, weirdly kind of you not to call me girly or a romantic for wanting to enjoy a sunset on the beach like I’m the main character in a romance novel.”
Though his smile doesn’t dwindle, there's a hint of hesitation in Calum’s voice when he says it, face turned to the ocean again.
“Well,” Luke says, bumping their shoulders together. “There’s nothing girly about watching the sunset, that’s just stupid. I wouldn’t say something like that. It might be a bit romantic of you, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”
Calum hums, shaking his head on a laugh. He doesn’t say anything, just rearranges himself so he can rest his head on Luke’s shoulder, sighing contentedly when Luke’s arm wraps around his shoulders, keeping him close.
They stay like this, quiet and contemplating, for more than an hour. The sun sets quite rapidly this time of year, and Luke enjoys watching the sky change colours in real time. It’s strange to think that this is a process that happens every day, yet he doesn’t think he’s ever in his life taken the time to watch.
“I wish Michael and Ashton could have seen this,” Calum says when most of the horizon has turned a deep yellow and orange, forming a golden halo over the ocean.
“Michael would have bitched about the cold, but I’m sure they both would have loved it.”
They would have, too. The only reason they’re back at the house is because Michael’s had a cold since the beginning of the week, and Ashton refused to let him go outside, claiming it would be a shame to get more sick when he’s on the brink of being fully back up to speed.
It’s a shame that they couldn’t be here, but Ashton knows best, and Michael knows that, so he just grumbled and made Ashton promise he’d cuddle with him in exchange for making him miss fun time with Calum and Luke. Ashton had agreed, and not as begrudgingly as he might have in the past.
“Wait, we should take a picture to show them!” Callum says.
He’s up before Luke even has time to blink, the warmth he was letting out only registering when it’s suddenly taken away from Luke.
“What are you doing!” Luke shouts, getting up clumsily and running after Calum, who’s rushing a bit too fast towards the water, though they’re still probably a hundred feet away. “Don’t get your feet wet!”
“Better catch me then!”
And Luke fucking hopes Calum is going to stop before he reaches the sea, but his knack for stupid things to do is scaring Luke a little, too.
So he does run, and he does catch Calum. He lets himself bask in the clear laugh Calum lets out when Luke wraps his arms around him from behind, pulling him back just in time. Salt flies to Luke’s face, to his mouth, but he doesn’t care.
“What, you don't want to go for a swim?” Calum asks, half-heartedly trying to set himself free, but Luke doesn’t let him, and Calum only manages to turn around, bringing them face to face, a few breaths away from each other.
There it is again, the glowing face that betrays happiness. Luke wants to kiss it, but he’s good at pretending he doesn’t at this point.
“No fucking way,” he says, laughing at Calum’s pout. “Don’t need more than one sick band member.”
“You’d get lots of cuddles out of it, clearly.”
“Not worth it.” Probably worth it. “Who says I want cuddles anyway?”
Calum arches an eyebrow. “You. You’re always begging for a cuddle.”
Maybe Luke isn’t the only one who knows his friends so well, he thinks as he replies, “Well, good thing you never say no when I beg you.”
He squeezes Calum tighter, rubbing his face against his cheek. Calum tries to squirm away again, but to no avail; he doesn’t put up a fight for too long, hugging Luke back, bringing some warmth back. It seeps into him, and Luke never wants to let go.
He wants Calum to keep holding him and never let go, either. The only missing parts are back at the house, and they wouldn’t mind latching on, he thinks.
“Okay, I did actually want to take a picture,” Calum says, leaning back, chuckling when Luke just tightens his hold on him. “Luuuuuke. Come on, take a selfie with me and then we’ll take a pic of– oh.”
“What?” Luke frowns, letting Calum free.
“It’s almost dark.”
It is, Luke is almost sad to notice. The pink and orange have mostly disappeared, only a sliver of it left over a dark blue that’s melting into the dark ocean.
“Well then!” Luke says, clapping his hands. “What are you waiting for, take a picture!”
Calum huffs. “You’re a dick,” he says, but there’s no heat to it.
He takes out his phone, snaps a few pictures of the sky that he files away for later, before tugging on Luke’s hand until they’re standing close again, with their backs turned to the sunset this time so it can be pictured on Calum’s camera.
They take more than strictly necessary, and maybe Luke is glad for the dark of the night for once as Calum turns to kiss his cheek for a picture or two, his skin flushing, burning. It’s not because of the cold this time.
When they make their way back to the car it’s fully dark, only a fair amount of stars lighting their path along the waterline. It’s the main reason why he lets himself take Calum’s hand, muttering, “Don’t let go,” under his breath.
Calum doesn’t bat an eye, just squeezes Luke’s hand, leading them back to where they came from.
Dinner is ready when they get back to the house, but Luke can only taste the ocean as he and Calum show Michael and Ashton the pictures as they eat.
the darkest night never felt so bright
with you by my side
“What are you doing up?”
If Luke had been more awake he would have fallen off the couch at the unexpected voice disturbing the (not so) peaceful night. As it is though, it’s almost three A.M., and he just blinks up at Ashton’s form that he can make out coming through the doorway, even upside down.
He taps his feet against the wall above the couch and hums. “Just thinking.”
“Are you now,” Ashton says. He walks in silently like only he can, taking a seat next to Luke.
“I am.”
“And why is that?”
When Luke only shrugs, Ashton sighs, bringing a hand to Luke’s shoulder. He rubs it slightly, waiting until Luke lets out a breath to talk again.
“Are you okay?”
Luke shrugs again. This time, the hand shifts to cup his jaw, thumb stroking at his cheek. Ashton is rarely touchy of his own doing, so it takes Luke by surprise, his heart missing a beat before settling, even though it shouldn’t. Of course Ashton will bring Luke physical comfort above all other kinds, because it’s what Luke likes best.
Sometimes, he forgets Ashton is so attentive, only because Luke doesn’t think anyone pays attention to him that much, even though he knows, logically, that it’s not true at all. He’s been proven wrong many times, and tonight is one of them.
“I was trying to write,” Luke finally sighs, though he doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to disrupt Ashton’s hand on him.
“Yeah?”
Nodding ever so slowly, Luke brings his own hand to Ashton’s bare forearm. Luke’s wrapped in two shirts and one of Michael’s flannels, and here Ashton is, walking around in a simple shirt and pajama pants.
“Why the whole…” Ashton makes a motion in Luke’s general direction, “–sad and moody aura, then? You love writing.”
“I do, and that’s why I hate it when I can’t do it. Everything I’ve been putting down is trash.”
“I’m sure it’s not,” Ashton assures.
Luke feels his lips tilt upwards. “You can’t know that.”
“Show me then?”
Of course, that’s what Ashton would suggest. Of course, he won’t believe Luke can be a bad songwriter on some days. Of course, he wants to prove Luke wrong. The notebook is lost somewhere on the floor, probably where Luke’s feet would be if he was sitting upright. Luke could pick it up and hand it to Ashton, and he’d receive some encouraging words, and maybe Ashton would even point out the redeemable parts of what’s on the page.
To be fair, it’s probably what Luke needs, but if he’s honest, it’s not what he wants. Part of him wants to wallow in his misery and his writing block. If he can call it that. And now that he’s got Ashton all up in his space, he doesn’t really wanna do anything about the writing anyway.
“Maybe next time,” he says.
“If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
The thing is, Luke’s got a song somewhere else that he thinks might be good. It doesn’t have much at all, just a couple lines, but it’s something. He started putting down words in his notebook while lying in bed the day after the sunset night with Calum, and he hasn’t touched it since.
He also isn’t sure if he wants to show it to the guys yet, and it’s only partly because it’s missing so many pieces. He doesn’t know how remembering the ocean and running to someone and needing love to let go of baggage can make sense together, but he knows it does. Somehow.
“Are you just gonna stay here then, or are we going to bed?” Ashton says, thumb resuming its strokes on Luke’s cheek, and Luke can’t help but lean into the palm of his hand. He knows Ashton meant a general we, but the thought of sharing a bed with him again — with any of them — sends his heart racing.
He swallows, hoping Ashton can’t feel it. “I don’t think I can sleep so soon,” he says. “I’ve worked my brain out too much.”
I want you to stay with me, he doesn’t say.
It seems he doesn’t have to ask, because Ashton says, “Okay, I’ll stay with you then.”
His hand disappears just as soon, and so does his weight on the couch. Luke swears he doesn’t mean to whine out loud. Ashton chuckles lightly, the sound clear and warming Luke’s chest despite the fact that it’s mocking him.
“I’ll be back in a second,” Ashton says, grabbing Luke’s legs and pulling them down to rest on the couch until Luke is way too contorted. “I’m gonna make some tea and grab us a blanket or two, okay? You sit yourself properly before your head explodes from all the blood rushing to it. And start clearing your head. I love you.”
There’s a kiss to Luke’s forehead and then Ashton is disappearing out of the living room and into the kitchen area. Luke tries to focus on the clinking noises as he rights himself until he’s lying sideways on the couch instead of how much he fucking loves Ashton back.
Ashton likes words. He’s a talker, has always been, and he tells all the boys he loves them as much as he can get away with without getting teased by Michael for it. Sometimes he doesn’t say the words, but it’s obvious every time he offers a compliment unprompted or talks about them to someone else.
There’s nothing surprising or unusual about Ashton saying I love you. Luke’s used to it. But lately every time he's heard it, seen it, from any of the boys, it’s been… not painful, but just a little more overwhelming. Not in a bad way, really. It’s just that he’s been aware of his feelings for months now, and it’s getting obvious that, though he’ll live with their friendship because it’s precious and he cherishes it like nothing, maybe he’s actually starting to want more.
He’s starting to want to reply to Ashton’s I love you ’s and Michael and Calum’s fierceful hugs with more than just a hug back or a “Love you, too” or a joking, “Go away.”
It would have been easy, to bring Ashton back down by the collar of his after he said the words, to bring their lips together and give him an upside down kiss. Just like yesterday he could have easily kissed Calum’s neck when he buried his face in it mid-hug. And just like, when Michael teasingly grabbed his face last week, it would have been so easy for Luke to lean forward and capture Michael’s lips.
(He doesn’t remember how they taste, and he doesn’t know how he feels about that. He usually tries not to think about it.)
Five minutes later, Ashton is back with two steaming mugs full of herbal tea and two giant blankets he must have fetched from his bedroom. He shoulders off both blankets so they fall on Luke’s curled up form, earning himself a grunt of half-hearted complaint.
“Lift your head, you big baby,” Ashton says, and Luke sticks his tongue out.
“Not a baby.”
“You’re laying like one.” He raises his head in Luke’s direction. “Come on, lift your head so I can sit, I promise my thighs make a great pillow for when you’ve drunk your tea.”
It’s on autopilot that Luke acts then as he raises his head, brain overheating at the fact that Ashton is offering his lap for Luke to rest his head on. That’s a thought for later, as for now he just sits up and curls up against Ashton, grabbing his mug and blowing on it to cool it as Ashton drapes the blankets over them both.
Not even a sip in, a thought crosses his mind, and he pokes a finger against Ashton’s stomach, scrunching up his nose as he looks up at him.
“Wait, why are you awake?”
“I had to go to the bathroom,” Ashton says, too quickly.
Luke huffs. “You’re such a bad liar.”
“Please do not insult my lying skills.”
“So you admit you’re lying? Won’t even pretend for a little bit?”
“What’s the point?” Ashton shrugs. “Knew you’d figure me out anyway. You’re too perceptive.”
The thought that he’s being too perceptive about the boys for his own good crosses Luke’s mind again, but he pushes it off as soon as it appears because Ashton sighs and says under his breath, “Just had a nightmare.”
Next to him Luke freezes up a second, not having expected another answer, yet alone an honest one. Ashton’s face isn’t showing any signs of distress, which is relieving, but if didn’t just go back to sleep then it wasn’t good, either.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“I’d rather talk about something else,” Ashton says. “Think that might help you, too, no? Clear our heads a little.”
Luke nods, takes a sip. That sounds like a plan. “Okay, yeah. What do you want to talk about?”
“Anything,” Ashton hurries out. ‘Tell me anything. Something about you. About a stranger you saw on the street. About your family, about the boys, anything.”
“Anything? Did I tell you about the dog my mum’s been meaning to get?”
Luke goes on about the dog his mum has been seeing at the shelter she visits often, and quickly it turns into talking about getting their own pets and Ashton’s childhood cat and somehow that veers to sharing old stories they haven’t told each other before.
Later, when they’ve seemingly exhausted any random topics for the night and they’re both done with their drinks and Ashton has put the empty mugs on the ground, Luke finally lays back down.
He’s happy to discover that Ashton’s thighs are comfortable. He’s just as relieved when his only reaction isn’t to freak out or blurt out something he’s not ready to, but instead for his whole body to relax as he rearranges himself yet again, turning so his face is facing Ashton.
“You make dark days, and by extension dark nights, so much better,” Luke mumbles, burying his nose in Ashton’s stomach, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. His eyes are drooping. “All of you, but you specifically right now. So, thank you.”
A hand finds its way to his growing hair, petting softly, soothingly.
Luke hears the smile loud and clear when Ashton says, “You too. You guys make all the darkest times brighter.”
And oh, Luke thinks as he finally falls asleep here on the couch. That’s a thought to keep.
if you could love me again
i could let go of everything
The party downstairs is buzzing when Luke steps on the rooftop. He lets out a sigh as he closes the door before taking in a deep breath, letting the cool late night air fill his lungs.
He likes parties alright, likes that they’re meeting people and making friends who like them enough to invite them to parties, but he couldn’t stand to remain in that apartment a second longer. Not when Calum and Ashton were all up in each other’s space making heart eyes at each other. Not when Michael was batting his eyelashes at half the people in the room.
Luke doesn’t consider himself a particularly jealous person. Sure, he can be needy, which is surely the result of being the baby of the family and being used to the attention being on him, but he’s not jealous, he swears he’s not.
Not usually.
Usually, he knows how to compartmentalize, he knows when not to make things about himself.
And really, he’s used to seeing Calum and Ashton act like no one else exists, and he’s used to seeing Michael flirt his way through life. But with the ever growing fondness that’s come with living together in a real house again, it’s getting harder.
He saw the way that girl whispered something in Michael’s ear, and the delighted reaction it got from Michael. Luke didn’t stay there long enough to see what happened next, just made his way out of the apartment and to the staircase leading to the rooftop.
As he walks to the railing, he tries not to think too much about Michael, older than him but still so young, not knowing how to flirt at all, and only trying it out on Luke.
For a long time, he didn’t think about it. He and Michael just sort of stopped doing what they were doing, without really talking about it, and then that was that. They went on with their lives and Luke only ever thought about it fondly.
But now that he’s drowned himself in his own feelings for the boys, Michael included, thinking about it is just a tad more bittersweet; the thought of having Michael back when he wasn’t in love, but not now, has been feeling like a bad joke. Though it didn’t really hurt until tonight.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
Luke turns around, startled, to find Michael closing the door behind him, softly coloured hair appearing like a bright halo.
Love me like you did, love me like you did, love me like you did.
The words he voice recorded last night come crashing like a tidal wave as Michael makes his way to him until he’s propped against the railing, too, hip cocked against it so he’s facing Luke.
They were just kids, and they never did anything more than kiss and go on what could have been dates if they’d called them that. They were too young to know what love was, at least that kind of love. Yet it still feels like Michael used to give him the love Luke wants to get from him and Calum and Ashton today.
“Just needed to get some air,” Luke says when it feels like Michael’s been staring at him too long. He clears his throat. “Did you follow me here?”
“Maybe.” Michael shrugs.
Luke speaks before he can ask himself if it’s a good idea. “Didn’t feel like getting some? Seems like you could have.” It comes out a little more grumbly than he’d hoped.
“You jealous?” Michael grins, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Never,” Luke says, and it’s clear to them both he’s lying when he grins, too, and he finds he doesn’t care that much.
Silence settles around them, only the faraway sound of the city life down below filling their ears. It’s not very cold, but a chill is present, Luke notes now that he’s no longer all alone with his thoughts.
“I wouldn’t have done anything with her,” Michael says, now facing somewhere far away, somewhere that isn’t Luke. His foot is kicking into the railing.
Luke only hums, not knowing what to say, though he feels something lighten in him. He’s not jealous, but yeah, he is a little greedy. And he’s glad Michael is here with him now instead of some probably very nice but random girl.
“You ever think about it?” Michael asks after another stretch of silence.
Once again, Luke doesn’t have to ask what he’s talking about. They’ve never talked about it because there was never a need to. Now, though…
He doesn’t think before he admits to Michael’s profile, curved nose and too pink lips, “More and more every day.”
Biting his lips, he hesitates this time before he goes on, unsure.
“Have you ever…”
“What?”
“With the others, has anything ever happened, as well?”
Luke shouldn’t be asking. He doesn’t know why he’s asking, why he’s so desperate to hear an answer that might not satisfy him.
For a long moment, Michael doesn’t say anything. He keeps his eyes trailed on the horizon, a contemplating look in them. It’s rare to see him this quiet, so still, for so long. Luke enjoys the moment, although the thumping in his ears is a bit distracting.
“Nothing, no,” Michael says finally.
The words have Luke blinking before he lets out a stunned, “oh.” It’s the answer he should have expected, and yet it’s not the one he wanted, it seems.
Michael is looking at his hands, now, fingers twiddling over the railing. Luke wants to reach out, still them with his own hand. Michael would let him, too, but Luke can’t tell if this is appropriate for the moment.
“So you don’t,” Luke tries, then swallows. “Ash and Cal, you don’t–”
With a frustrated sigh, he bows his head, a hand flying to mess his hair up by tugging on it. He can’t say it. He doesn’t know how to say it, how to make what he means clear. He’s always had trouble getting his point across if he’s not songwriting, and he’s never hated that more than he does now.
But of course Michael gets it anyway. Of course, despite the fact that Luke didn’t even finish half his thoughts, Michael says, easy as ever, “I love them as much as I love you, Luke. I’ve never loved them any less.”
Again, Luke whispers another, “oh,” before letting out a laugh, something that was caught in the back of his throat. It feels freeing, the way loving feels when it’s right.
“Hey,” Michael says, and then his hand is on Luke’s shoulder. A frown settles on his face, bleeding uncertainty. “Are you okay?”
And, Luke’s smile blossoms, Michael the only source of light it needs to do so in the dark. He keeps laughing, even after he’s thrown his arms around Michael’s neck and hidden his face in it.
He doesn’t have all the pieces to answer his unasked questions, but pretty sure he’s more than okay.
Love me like you did, love me like you did, love me like you did, his own voice repeats in his head.
Maybe he already has his wish, he thinks when Michael leans back slightly, leaving a fluttery kiss at the corner of his lips before saying oh so softly, “I love you all the same.”
Maybe now, all he has to do is ask.
nothing like the rain
when you’re in outer space
“I don’t know if I believe in soulmates, but if they exist, you guys are definitely it.”
The words come out into the small, silent room, taking more space than the sunlight bathing it with its glow.
Luke would say he doesn’t mean to say it, but the truth is, he’s been holding onto the words for a long time. He’s also pretty sure they’ve been uttered by one of them at some point, in some way, but this feels different.
They’re all laid out on the floor, spread out in the studio space, legs piling up together in the starfish formation they’re making. Everyone else has gone out for a lunch break that the boys refused to come along for, so now it’s just the four of them. Resting, staring at the ceiling. Listening to each other’s breathing.
“I don’t believe in soulmates,” Ashton says, crushing Luke’s heart until his next words restore it. “I still want to believe you three are mine.”
Mine. Luke mouths the word to himself, feeling a smile rise to his face. Ashton’s soulmates. Ashton’s, plain and simple. Luke wants them to be that.
“I think we’re soulmates,” Calum chimes in, sitting up. Luke does the same, crossing his legs. “I’ve always believed in them, and there’s no way anyone other than you guys are mine.” Mine, again. “If it’s someone else, I don’t want them.”
Ashton sits up then, too, pokes Michael’s side with his foot.
“What about you, Mike?”
Uncharacteristically, Michael doesn’t reply. Luke holds his breath, their conversation on the rooftop two days ago still present in his mind. They stayed out there for a long time after it, hugging, sitting on the ground with heads in each other’s laps. They didn’t talk much, but when they did, it was obvious there was something there, hanging in the air.
It stayed with them all evening, even when Calum came and fetched them to get back home, and even the next day, but it was easy, like a mutual agreement that they’d address it later. It seems later is now, and Luke doesn’t want to rush him, but he needs to hear from him, too.
Needs to see where he’s at today, and not on the rooftop of an apartment building with only the night to hear him. That he hasn’t changed his mind.
“Mike?” Calum asks again. He doesn’t look anxious, per se, but there’s still something unsure in his voice.
Michael must hear it, because he sends him a glance from his spot on the ground, offering a small smile.
“I don’t care whether it’s a soulmate thing or not,” he says finally, voice dripping sweetness. “I love you guys. You’re my whole life, and that’s all I care about. I don’t care about why.”
Gently, Luke squeezes his shoulder, and the soft smile turns his way.
“How…” Calum starts, biting his lip, eyes cast down. “How do you love us? How do all of you?”
All eyes turn to him as he picks at a loose thread in the carpet, the air around them changing; it’s like everything stops, because Calum’s just put something out there, and the answer will be everything that matters.
Slowly, Michael sits up, immediately scooting closer to Calum. His hand finds the small of Calum’s back, and that gets Calum to look up, eyes wildly hopeful.
Then Michael is leaning forward, free hand cradling Calum’s jaw before catching Calum’s lips with his. Ashton takes a deep breath beside him, his hand flying to Luke’s thigh. The touch sends warmth through him and Luke feels loved, feels everyone’s love, watching Calum and Michael exchange the sweetest kiss, here in the studio of their temporary house.
He only looks away when Ashton’s hand moves to take his, intertwining their fingers before asking, pleading with his eyes to get Luke closer. And so Luke goes, shifting until he’s kneeling, cupping Ashton’s face and sighing against Ashton’s lips when he presses their mouths together as hands land on his waist. Secret, intimate, caring.
Kissing Ashton brings a flurry of contentment inside him, and it settles there, seeping into his veins. It feels warm and comforting, like putting on the best wool sweater to brave the winter. When he kisses Michael and Calum next, it feels the same. He’s glad to note that kissing Michael now, after years without doing it, feels just as new as kissing Ashton and Calum does.
Everything feels new, but in a familiar way; it all falls into place, the way it should, and when they’re all done, slightly breathless but more from laughing than anything else, they go back to a pile on the floor. This time, though, they’re all clinging to each other, shirts bundled in fists and noses hidden in necks.
Luke sits next to them, a hand braced next to Ashton’s head on the floor, his other on what feels like Calum’s leg, the rough denim familiar under his palm.
“I didn’t really know how to say it with words,” Michael says, eyes turned to Calum. To anyone he would look a little sheepish, maybe, but Luke knows he’s just retaining a smug smile. He’s proud of being the one to make the first move.
“I feel like I should know how to say it with words,” Ashton adds. “But I’ll be honest I feel just a bit speechless right now, so–”
“I think I know,” Luke cuts off. He’s got three pairs of eyes on him, expectant and vibrating with excitement. “Not right now? But I write songs about you, sometimes. Or, well, notes that are begging to be used in songs. I could show you, now that I don’t have to hide it. One of them especially, it’s… yeah, I’ll show you. And I think you’re who I need to finish it with me.”
It’s the most honest thing he’s ever said, and he notes to himself that it’s what he always wants to be, with them. Especially when the response he gets is wide, mesmerized eyes and even brighter smiles.
“Yeah?” Calum says, his hand flying to Luke’s wrist, landing softly, fingers wrapping loosely around it. “That sounds like you love us a lot, if you’ve got songs out of it.”
“I do,” Luke says easily. “I love you enough to write songs for the rest of my life, and more.”
Later, when everyone comes back to find them still piled up on each other and back to talking nonsense, Luke’s first, fleeting thought is to panic, until he realizes that nothing about this is different from before; they’re still them, and they might have to be careful not to kiss each other randomly — though he doesn’t think they’re at that stage yet — but nothing about them is changing. Not the things that matter.
His second thought is that he’d kill to be one of those outside eyes, to be able to see what the four of them look like to someone else. There’s nothing like witnessing love that has nothing to do with you. Luke knows it’s gorgeous and inspiring and heartwarming, and he tries his best to imagine it.
Or, he will when he has thoughts to spare. For now, he’s going to write, and he’s going to stare at his boys as much as he can, and he’s going to show them what it’s like for him to love them with his silly little words that he’s put down in his silly little notebook, if he can’t show them what their love looks like from the outside.
He thinks it might be just as well, though.
If there’s anything better than witnessing real love, it’s to feel it. And it seems there’s plenty to go around between the four of them.